Cavanaugh Reunion Read Free

the woman.He must have dropped it when she knocked him down at the building’s entrance.
    Kansas frowned. “What?”
    Ethan saw that she’d bitten off the word as if it had been yanked out of her throat against her will. For a second, he thought about just ignoring her, but he needed to get his team out here, which meant that he needed a cell phone.
    “I lost my cell phone,” he told her, then added, “I think I must have lost it when you ran into me and knocked me down.”
    Ethan looked over in the general direction of the entrance, but the area was now covered with firefighters running hoses, weaving in and out of the building, conferring with other firemen. Two were trying to get the swelling crowd to stay behind the designated lines that had been put up to control the area. If his phone had been lost there, it was most likely long gone, another casualty of the flames.
    “You ran into me,” she corrected him tersely.
    Was it his imagination, or was the woman looking at him suspiciously?
    “Why do you want your cell phone?” Kansas asked him. “Do you want to take pictures of the fire?”
    He stared at her. Why the hell would he want to do that? The woman really was a nut job. “What would anyone want their phone for?” he responded in annoyance. “I want to make a call.”
    Her frown deepened. She made a small, disparaging noise, then began to dig through her pockets. Finding her own phone, she grudgingly held it out to him.
    “Here, you can borrow mine,” she offered. “Just don’t forget to give it back.”
    “Oh damn, there go my plans for selling it on eBay,” he retorted. “Thanks,” he said as he took the cell phone from her.
    Ethan started to press a single key, then stopped himself. He was operating on automatic pilot and had just gone for the key that would have immediately hooked him up to the precinct. He vaguely wondered what pressing the number three on the woman’s phone would connect him to. Probably her anger-management coach, he thought darkly. Too bad the classes weren’t taking.
    It took Ethan a few seconds to remember the number to his department. It had been at least six months since he’d had to dial the number directly.
    He let it ring four times, then, when it was about to go to voice mail, he terminated the call and tried another number. All the while he was aware that this woman—with soot streaked across her face like war paint—was standing only a few feet away, watching him intently.
    Why wasn’t she getting herself checked out? he wondered. And why was she scrutinizing him so closely? Did she expect him to do something strange? Or was she afraid he was going to make off with her phone?
    No one was picking up. Sighing, he ended the second call. Punching in yet another number, he began to mentally count off the number of rings.
    The woman moved a little closer to him. “Nobody home?” she asked.
    “Doesn’t look that way.”
    But just as he said it, Ethan heard the phone on the other end being picked up. He held his hand up because she’d begun to say something. He hoped she’d pick up on his silent way of telling her to keep quiet while he was trying to hear.
    “Cavanaugh,” a deep voice on the other end of the line announced.
    Great, like that was supposed to narrow things down. There were currently seventeen Cavanaughs on the police force—if he, Greer and Kyle were included in the count.
    He thought for a moment, trying to remember the first name of the Cavanaugh who had been appointed head of this task force. Dax, that was it. Dax.
    Ethan launched into the crux of his message. “Dax, this is Ethan O’Brien. I’m calling because there’s just been another fire.”
    The terse statement immediately got the attention of the man he was calling—as well as the interest of the woman whose phone he was using.

Chapter 2
    “G ive me your location,” Dax Cavanaugh instructed. Then, before Ethan had a chance to give him the street coordinates, he offered,